Another Psychic in the Family
by Supervillegirl
Summary: Sam and John have been searching for Dean for two years. Can the psychic detective help find him?
1. Chapter 1

Another Psychic in the Family

**May 2007**

**Santa Barbara, California**

Sam Winchester drove through the streets, trying to find the apartment complex he was looking for. He'd seen the article in the newspaper involving several "freak accidents" in the Santa Barbara area. He had suspected something strange from the start. His older brother Dean would've already been on the jump from the moment he spotted the article, but…Sam had to make due with what he had.

Dean had been missing for two years. Their father John had called him at Stanford the last week of spring semester in 2005, saying that he hadn't heard from Dean in two weeks. Sam had immediately left college—after explaining the situation to his girlfriend Jessica Moore—and joined his father to search for Dean.

John had told him that he'd gotten a call a week ago from an impound lot in Palmdale, California. The guy was calling to report that the Impala was in his impound lot. It had been sitting abandoned in the street outside a hotel for a week. They had found John's information in the glove box and called him. Thankfully, they needed a warrant to search the rest of the vehicle, so no one found the arsenal in the trunk.

John and Sam had immediately headed out to Palmdale, searching for Dean. But it was like he just vanished. There was no record of someone with Dean's description in any of the local hospital or jails, and they knew Dean would not just abandon the Impala like that. They followed the trail of the hunt John had sent Dean on, but neither he nor his remains were in the rawhead nest. They had searched the past two years, but had not found him.

Sam had visited Jessica often, who always asked about his family. Sam helped his father hunt in the meantime, hoping that he would find Dean during one of his hunts.

What was also occupying Sam and John's research was the hunt for the demon that had killed Mary…especially after what was starting to happen to Sam. About a year and a half ago, Sam had started having weird dreams. The random dreams would inexplicably come true. At first, he'd said nothing about them to John, but when he started having them while he was awake, he'd finally let his father in on the whole thing.

The visions were beginning to get more intense, and Dean's absence was growing more and more worrisome. Where could he have gotten off to?

Sam climbed out of the Impala outside the apartment complex, adjusting his suit jacket and tie as he closed the door and locked it. As he approached the cop waiting at the entrance of the complex, Sam reached into his suit jacket.

"Afternoon," Sam greeted him, taking out an FBI badge and showing it to the officer. "Agent Simmons, FBI."

The officer nodded and stepped aside to let Sam enter. Sam headed up to the third floor, showing his badge again for the officer standing at the door.

About nine or ten cops scurried about the room, collecting evidence and taking photos of the stabbed body on the living room rug. Two cops stood by the body on the floor, dressed in suits. One was a blonde woman as tall as Sam's shoulder, and the other was a man Sam's height with salt-and-pepper hair and a strong Irish brow.

Sam pulled out his badge as he headed over to them. "Excuse me. My name is Sam Simmons. I'm with the FBI, and I'd like to ask you some questions."

"I don't think so," said the male detective. "Not until we're finished with this scene." He turned to another tall officer in the room. "McNab! Bag this." He handed the officer a pair of tweezers with some hair follicles grasped at the end of it.

McNab pulled out an evidence bag, slipping the tweezers inside.

"I understand you're preoccupied at the time, but this will only take a moment," said Sam.

The male detective glared at him, and Sam found himself intimidated. It wasn't often that an authority figure was on the same eye level as him.

"You think I'm gonna share clues so the feds can just swoop in and take over the case?" he said. "This is our jurisdiction, our case. You can come back later and—"

"Lassiter!" hissed the female detective. She smiled up at Sam. "I'm sorry. He takes his job very seriously. I'm Detective O'Hara, this is Detective Lassiter. What can we help you with?"

"Whoa!"

Sam, Lassiter and O'Hara turned to see a brown-haired guy wearing a green plaid shirt and jeans with a smoothie in his hand standing in the doorway of the apartment with an African-American guy in a black suit with a purple shirt.

"Spencer, out of here!" said Lassiter.

"Now, Lassie," said the plaid-shirt guy, "Spencer," as he headed into the apartment and walked over to them. "Is that any way to ask for help? Especially when the spirits have told me that you've missed me lately."

Lassiter rolled his eyes as Sam frowned at Spencer. The guy was a few inches shorter than him with dark-brown hair and hazel green eyes and a strong jaw. Something about this guy was familiar—Sam could sense it—but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He'd certainly never seen this guy before.

Spencer frowned at Sam's suit for a moment and looked up at him. "Who's the fed?"

Sam frowned at him. "How'd you know I was a fed?"

Spencer startled for a moment, seeming to play the effect up. "Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes, I can't turn it off." He extended his hand towards Sam. "Shawn Spencer, head psychic for the SBPD." He gestured to his African-American friend. "This is my associate, Gus 'Goody Two Shoes' Jackson."

Gus rolled his eyes at Shawn's nickname.

Sam shook Shawn's hand, his eyes widening. "Psychic?"

Had Sam just stumbled upon one of the psychic kids he and his father had been searching for the past few months?

"I know, I know," said Shawn. "You don't believe in psychics, right? Well, let me astound you."

He immediately turned towards the crime scene with his friend Gus, moving around the room.

Sam turned back towards the two detectives. "Is he really a psychic?"

"Yes," said O'Hara. "He's solved many cases for us. He really is quite amazing."

Lassiter glared at O'Hara and looked at Sam. "He's decent…for a lazy slob."

Sam nodded, sensing that Lassiter and Shawn didn't get along very well. "Do you have any leads?"

O'Hara glanced down at the body. "Well, we don't really have any leads, because this wasn't a murder. Forensics have found no fingerprints on the knife except his own. We believe he was using the knife to eat—" she pointed at the plate of half-eaten food on the coffee table, "—and tripped over something, falling onto the knife."

_Or…a shapeshifter killed him,_ Sam thought, nodding at O'Hara. _That would explain the fingerprints…_

"Oh!"

Sam turned to look at the crime scene, where Shawn was bent over the body, his hands at his temples.

"Oh, the humanity!" exclaimed Shawn, wrenching himself to his feet and throwing himself against the wall behind him.

"He's having a vision!" said Gus, watching Shawn in apparent panic.

Shawn's arm flung out to the side, his hand clenched as though he were holding something. He looked over at the clenched hand, his eyes wide. "No! Please!"

Shawn moved the clenched hand towards himself, and he used the other hand to grab hold of that one. His two hands appeared to struggle with themselves.

"No!" Shawn exclaimed. "Don't hurt me!"

The clenched hand won out, jabbing into his chest in the same spot where the knife stuck out of the victim's body.

"Ah!" Shawn cried, grasping at the "wound." "No!" He fell to his knees, doubled over.

"Spencer, what the hell is this?" asked Lassiter, glaring at Shawn.

Shawn's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "This was no accident…" He looked up at Sam and the detectives. "This was murder!"

Shawn's vision that the victim had been killed wasn't what made Sam's eyes suddenly frown in confusion. A necklace had fallen out from under Shawn's shirt when he was slumped over. It now hung from his neck, swinging slightly back and forth: a bronze amulet of a humanoid head with bull-like horns.

Sam's eyes widened as he stared at the necklace. There was only one necklace like that, and he knew who it belonged to.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, staring at Shawn.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

But…how could it be Dean? How could this guy be Dean? He looked nothing like him. But…why would he have Dean's amulet?

"Spencer, there were no fingerprints on the knife but the victim's," Lassiter told him.

Shawn flung a hand up to the side of his face. "No!" He jumped up onto his feet. "The spirits say 'murder!'" He whipped his head to the side, scrunching his face up in anguish. "Oh, the horror!"

"Lassiter, if he was murdered, the guy could have been wearing gloves," said O'Hara.

Shawn let out a deep breath dramatically and quickly pulled his hand away from his head, as though a great force had just released him. "Thank you, Jules." His gaze swept the room and stopped on Sam. "Dude, you okay?"

Sam shook himself a little, realizing he'd been staring. "Uh…just low blood sugar. No big deal."

"Well, we should go get a pineapple smoothie," said Shawn. "What do you say, Gus?"

"Shawn, you already got a pineapple smoothie this morning," Gus told him, holding up the smoothie Shawn had walked in with.

"Bacon cheeseburger, then?" asked Shawn.

Sam smiled, chuckling a little. This guy did act so much like Dean; he had the same unreserved personality. Maybe not as charismatic as Dean, but Sam could still see the same cocky, give-'em-hell attitude in him. Sam decided that he should start focusing his research efforts in this Shawn Spencer, starting with his psychic abilities. His priority being the case first, of course.

"As long as you answer some questions first," said Sam, playing his federal role. "I have some information that you might be able to help me with."

"If your first question is, are my good looks really that natural, then the answer is yes," said Shawn.

Sam smiled. _And the same narcissistic personality as Dean…_

"The bar on the corner of Fifth and Parkview," Sam told Shawn. "One hour."

Shawn snapped to attention and gave a military salute. "Sir, yes, sir." He turned towards the door. "Come on, Gus. We have a case to solve." He headed out the door with Shawn.

Sam turned towards O'Hara and Lassiter. "Is he always like that?"

"Yes," said O'Hara and Lassiter.

Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. "Here's my number. If you have any new information, please call."

As Sam walked out of the apartment, he surveyed the crime scene one last time. He spotted a scuff mark on the hardwood over by the bookshelf and the blood on the edge of the end table. He headed out of the apartment and down to a door in the lobby marked "Allison Collang, Landlady."

Sam knocked on the door and waited for a moment. After a few seconds, a woman opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Hi," said Sam, pulling out his FBI badge and showing it to her. "I'm Agent Simmons. Are you Miss Collang?"

"Yes," said Allison.

"Can I ask you a few questions about Mr. Fillcan's accident?" Sam asked her.

"Sure," said Allison, opening the door to let Sam in.

Sam walked into her apartment as she closed the door. "Have you noticed anything unusual in the building lately?"

"Unusual?" asked Allison.

"Anyone with unusual behavior, or anything you might have seen that seemed out of the ordinary?" asked Sam.

Allison thought for a moment. "No, I haven't noticed anything."

"These next questions might sound unorthodox, but they're relevant to the investigation," Sam told her. "Have you heard any weird noises? Such as skittering in the walls?"

"No," said Allison. "Nothing like that."

"Have you noticed any weird smells?" asked Sam. "Like sulfur?"

Allison shook her head.

"What about cold spots?" asked Sam. "Have you felt any of those?"

"No," said Allison.

"And you haven't seen anyone acting suspiciously?" asked Sam.

Allison shook her head again.

"Do you have any security cameras set up in the building?" asked Sam.

"Yes," said Allison.

"May I take a look at the footage from last night?" asked Sam.

"Sure," said Allison. She grabbed her keys and led Sam out of her apartment. "It's down the hall here." She led him to a door and unlocked it, letting him through the door.

Allison grabbed a case of tapes, pulling one out and putting it into the VCR. "Here you go."

"Thank you," said Sam, sitting down at the console as Allison headed for the door.

"Just close the door when you're done," said Allison.

"Sure," said Sam.

Allison left the room, and Sam rewound until he found what he was looking for. Around ten o'clock, Reggie Fillcan walked to his apartment door, glancing down the hallway and towards the camera to see if anyone was coming.

Sam froze the image and glared at the screen. "Got you, you bastard."

Reggie Fillcan's eyes were almost glowing…the same camera flare that a shapeshifter gives off.

Sam shut the screen off and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sam headed out of the building and searched around it for some sort of sewer access. That was the typical pattern with shapeshifters, John and Sam had discovered in the past two years. Sure enough, Sam found a sewer hatch about fifteen feet from the back door.

Sam's cell phone rang in his pocket, and he dug it out, flipping it open. "Hello?"

"It's me," said John. "How's the hunt going?"

"Well, I've narrowed it down to a shapeshifter," said Sam. "And I've found his sewer access. I'm gonna head down there tonight to search for him."

"Good," said John. "Keep me posted."

"Dad," said Sam urgently before his father could hang up. "There's something else."

"What?" asked John.

"There's this psychic detective here that had a vision about the death not being an accident," said Sam. "I think he might be the real deal."

"Have you researched him yet?" asked John.

"I'm headed to ask him some questions right now," said Sam.

"Good job," said John. "Call me later."

"Wait," said Sam.

"What?" asked John, starting to sound a little frustrated.

"There's something else about him," said Sam. "He has Dean's amulet."

There was silence on the other end.

"What?" asked John.

"This psychic detective…he has Dean's amulet," said Sam.

"Did you recognize him?" asked John. "Was he maybe someone Dean knew?"

"I didn't recognize him," said Sam. "Has Dean ever mentioned a Shawn Spencer?"

John was silent for a moment. "No. I don't remember that name."

"I'll look into it," said Sam.

"I'll call you later," said John.

Sam hung up and drove towards Fifth and Parkview, parking and heading into the bar. He spotted Shawn and Gus over at a window table and headed over to them.

"Hello, Scully," greeted Shawn.

Sam smiled bracingly and sat down at the table across from them. "Good to see you guys again."

"You, too," said Gus, giving him a warm smile. "I'm sorry. We didn't catch your name."

"It's Sam. Sam Simmons."

Shawn looked closely at him for a moment before looking away. "So, you're here to investigate an 'accidental death'?" He used air quotes when he said "accidental death."

"Well, I believe you," said Sam. "I think it was murder, too."

Shawn nodded. "Well, I guess I should be calling you Mulder instead."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, have you always been psychic?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," said Shawn.

Sam frowned. "You don't know?"

"Well, I was in a car accident two years ago," said Shawn.

Sam's interest peaked at the two year mention.

"I, uh…" began Shawn, his cocky attitude wavering. It was the first time he hadn't looked like life was a big joke. "I actually don't remember anything before that."

"Nothing?" asked Sam.

Shawn shook his head. "Not even my name. I, uh…I didn't have any I.D. on me in the accident, so I was just a John Doe. I don't even know what I looked like before."

Sam frowned. "Before?"

"The accident was so bad that the doctors had to perform surgery on my face," said Shawn. "The bone structure of my skull was practically shattered to pieces. They had to reconstruct the skull with plastic. It took four months to heal all the way. I, uh, discovered the psychic ability a few days after I woke up the first time after the surgery."

"And you don't remember anything?" asked Sam.

"No, nothing," said Shawn. "No memory, no ID, nothing. Just this." He reached into his shirt collar and pulled the amulet out, holding it up. "Not really sure what it is, but…I just didn't have the heart to get rid of it. Not really sure why, but…I have this feeling that it's important…"

Sam stared from the amulet and up into Shawn's face, recognizing the green-hazel eyes and the smirk on his face. Sam now knew without a doubt that Shawn Spencer was his missing brother.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sam thought over Shawn's story. It has been shown that trauma can induce psychic abilities, so it was entirely possible that the accident gave Dean…Shawn…Dean these gifts. On the other hand, Sam was psychic…Maybe the psychic thing involved Dean, too. It was most likely the former rather than the latter.

"Listen, uh…" said Sam. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," said Shawn, shrugging.

Sam hesitated, staring at Shawn. "Does the name Winchester mean anything to you?"

Sam had meant to tell him everything, but something in his mind told him to wait…that he shouldn't force his memories back on him.

Shawn frowned. "Like the rifle?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, like the rifle."

Shawn looked down at the table, staring at it for a while. He looked back up at Sam. "No. I don't know anyone with that name."

Sam nodded, looking down at the table.

Shawn inhaled suddenly, bringing a hand up to his temple as he looked down at the table. He looked back up at Sam. "This Winchester…he was someone close to you."

Sam stared at him. "Yeah…"

"And…I remind you of him, don't I?" asked Shawn.

Sam hesitated and nodded.

Shawn shrugged. "Well, that explains the creepy-ass stare in the apartment."

Sam laughed as Shawn smirked at him.

"So, do you have any leads?" asked Shawn. "I mean, the only fingerprints on the knife were Reggie's, so…what killed him?"

Gus looked over at Shawn, frowning. "Don't you mean, 'who'?"

"Well, Gus, we can't rule out something that can change its shape," said Shawn simply.

Sam's eyes shot over to Shawn, surprised.

"A shape-changing creature?" said Gus. "Really?"

"Yeah, like that Mystique chick," said Shawn. "That would make me Hugh Jackmann and you Patrick Stewart."

"Don't you think you'd be Patrick Stewart?" said Gus. "With your whole psychic thing?"

"Then that would make you Jean Grey," frowned Shawn.

"I think I'd be more of a James Marsden," Gus pointed out.

"Dude, James Marsden only had one eye," said Shawn.

"James Marsden's character had two eyes, Shawn," said Gus. "His alter-ego was Cyclops because his mutant power had to do with his eyes."

"Fine, I'll give you Kelsey Grammer," said Shawn.

"I think I'll stick with James Marsden, Shawn," said Gus.

Sam laughed, and the two friends looked at him.

"Sorry," said Sam. "You guys just remind me of me and my brother."

"Alright, so, this…shapeshifter creature," said Gus. "That's really what you're gonna go with?"

"If the shoe fits…" muttered Shawn.

Sam watched him closely, surprised that he was entertaining this line of thinking. Sure, he knew he was a psychic, but he had no idea he was a hunter.

"There's no such thing as shapeshifters, Shawn," said Gus.

Sam looked down at the table in confusion.

"There could be," said Shawn.

Sam looked up at Shawn, who quickly looked away from him. "You know, stuff like that is for the movies."

Shawn shrugged. "Just trying to think outside the box…you know, the whole 'truth is out there' bit."

"So, uh…" began Sam, hoping he wasn't imposing, "where'd you get the name Shawn Spencer? You know, if you don't remember anything."

"Well…" began Shawn. "While I was in the hospital, this guy—he used to be a cop for the Santa Barbara Police Department—he visited me a lot. Wasn't really sure why. I think he just always wanted a son, or something. His name was Henry Spencer. He kind of…looked after me. And Shawn, well…this guy in the bed next to me was named Shawn. We became good friends, kept each other from going crazy while we were stuck in there. He, uh…he didn't make it. So, I chose that as my name when I got out."

Sam nodded, glancing down at his watch. It was almost sunset. "Well, listen, thanks, guys. This has been a real help."

"It has?" asked Shawn. "We hardly talked about the case."

"Well, it helped me start to believe this whole psychic thing," said Sam, standing up from the table. "But I gotta go now. I'll see you gentlemen in the police station tomorrow." He turned and began heading towards the front door.

"Alrighty, Sasquatch," Shawn called towards Sam.

Sam smiled at the familiar nickname, heading out the door.

After changing his clothes at the motel, Sam headed to the sewer access at the back of the apartment complex. Sam closed the trunk, tucking his pistol into a pocket inside his jacket. He glanced around before walking over to the hatch and lifting it up, sliding it over to the edge of the sidewalk. He lowered himself onto the ladder and climbed down into the sewer silently, drawing his gun as he crept along the tunnels.

He wound around several corners before finally coming to a central hub—a big, clear area littered with odds 'n' ends. There were piles of clothes and that gooey skin stuff, knives and guns, candles, and wallets.

Before Sam could start routing through the stuff, he heard a noise coming from the tunnel behind him. Sam darted across the room and hid at the corner behind some pipes. He watched the tunnel, muscles tensed and ready.

"This is stupid, Shawn."

Sam frowned as he straightened a little, watching as Shawn and Gus snuck through the tunnel Sam had come through.

"Gus, this is the stealth part of the case," said Shawn in a whisper. "All your loud talking is gonna tip him off."

Sam straightened from behind the pipes, walking towards them. "He's already been tipped off."

Shawn sighed and looked at Gus. "See, man? You couldn't have been quiet."

"We're in a sewer, Shawn," said Gus. "These are my good shoes."

"Didn't I tell you to change before we left?" asked Shawn.

"I didn't know we would be walking through sewage," said Gus.

"There's no sewage," said Shawn. "They keep those pipes separate from the tunnels."

"Guys!" said Sam.

They both looked at him.

"Why are you tailing me?" asked Sam.

Shawn put a hand to the side of his head. "I could sense you were withholding information."

"Withholding information?" said Sam.

"Hey, you get to use police speak and I don't?" said Shawn, lowering his hand. "You know more about this case than you let on."

Sam glanced around at the tunnels attached to the room, watching for signs that the shapeshifter was returning. "Guys, can we continue this discussion somewhere else?"

Shawn put his hand to his head again. "Oh, my…There's something different about you…You're not who you say you are…"

Gus frowned. "Wait, he's not a fed?"

"Guys…" hissed Sam, glancing around the room.

"No…" said Shawn, lowering his hand, "I don't think he is…"

Sam's head snapped over to a tunnel on his left, where he heard faint splashes. "Come on!" He grabbed hold of Shawn and Gus' arms, pulling them to squat behind some pipes and lowering his voice. "Don't make a sound."

"Why?" asked Gus.

"Just don't!" Sam hissed, raising his gun in preparation.

The three of them watched as Reggie Fillcan stumbled into the lair, shedding his jacket.

"But he's—" hissed Gus.

Sam swung his hand out, hitting Gus in the arm to tell him to shut up. He knew how confusing this must be. Both of them had seen Reggie Fillcan lying dead on his living room rug. Sam glanced over at Shawn to see him frowning at the shapeshifter, but not terribly shocked—at least not visibly.

The shifter pulled his shirt off. He looked like he was in pain. He suddenly doubled over, his bones visibly shifting underneath his skin.

"Ugh—" began Gus.

Shawn slapped a hand over Gus' mouth as the two of them watched in horror.

The shifter grabbed at his chest, peeling the skin right off his muscles. His hair and teeth fell out, replaced by different hair and teeth. The shifter yelled as his skin seemed to melt off. After a while, he straightened back up, looking like an Asian guy. He pulled on some different clothes and took a tunnel back towards the surface.

When the shifter had been gone for a while, Shawn took his hand off of Gus' mouth.

"What the hell was that?" Gus exclaimed.

"That…" began Sam, "was a shapeshifter." He looked over to see Shawn and Gus staring at him in confusion. "Come on, let's get out of here. I'll explain everything."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

Sam pulled up to his motel room and parked the car, getting out and locking the doors as Gus and Shawn pulled up in a small blue Echo. Sam glanced around as he opened the trunk.

"So, you wanna explain what the hell that thing was?" asked Shawn as he and Gus jumped out of their car.

Sam opened the lid of the weapons cache.

"Whoa!" said Shawn, looking down at all the weapons in the trunk. He smiled. "Dude, you are so Bond…"

"Shawn…" said Gus, staring in apprehension at Sam and the weapons.

Shawn looked at him and rolled his eyes. "Dude, if he was gonna kill us, don't you think he would've done it in the sewer? Come on, we can trust him."

Sam glanced over at him.

"Oh, we can?" said Gus.

"Yeah, I'm psychic, remember?" said Shawn. "I got a feeling about him."

Sam looked back down at the trunk, grabbing some weapons and putting them into a duffel bag. He pulled the bag onto his shoulder and closed the trunk, heading for his room. He heard Shawn and Gus quietly fighting back by the Impala.

Sam opened his door and stood by the doorway, looking back at the two of them. Shawn and Gus were just about in each other's faces, arguing quickly in hushed voices.

"Guys," Sam called.

They both looked over at him.

"In or out," Sam told them.

Shawn shrugged and headed through the door. Sam looked over at Gus, who hesitated but then followed his friend inside. Sam walked in behind him and closed the door. He set his duffel bag on the bed.

"Make yourselves comfortable," said Sam, unzipping the duffel. He pulled out silver knives and pistols and boxes of silver bullets, taking apart the pistols to clean them and putting them back together.

Shawn and Gus sat at the table by the window, watching Sam with his weapons carefully.

"So, who are you?" asked Shawn.

Sam sighed, deciding what to tell him and what not to. "My name is Sam Winchester. I'm a hunter."

"A hunter?" asked Shawn. "Like, deer hunting?"

"No," said Sam, checking the sights on a pistol. "Ghost hunting."

Gus' brows raised. "Ghosts? Yeah, right."

"Really," said Sam. "Ghosts. Not to mention demons, vampires, werewolves, wendigos, djinns, witches, and—oh, yeah—shapeshifters."

"This is insane," said Gus.

Sam shrugged. "You know what you saw."

"You hunt supernatural creatures?" asked Shawn. "All that stuff is real?"

Sam looked up at him. "Yeah."

Shawn's face broke into a smile. "That's awesome!"

"It is?" asked Sam.

"Yeah!" said Shawn. He looked at Gus. "Dude, a real live Ghostbuster! That makes him Harold Ramis, me Bill Murray and you Dan Aykroyd!"

"I think I'd be more of an Ernie Hudson," said Gus.

Shawn shrugged. "Yeah, that fits a little better."

Sam shook his head. "Is this all you guys do all day long?"

Shawn and Gus looked at each other and then back at Sam, shrugging.

"Just about," said Shawn. "So, how did you get into this hunting business?"

Sam put his pistol back together and picked another one up. "My mother was killed by a demon when I was six months old. My father raised me and my brother as hunters."

"Where are they?" asked Shawn.

Sam hesitated. "Not here. We separated to hunt better."

"So, that's why Reggie's fingerprints were the only ones on the knife," said Gus. "Because this shapeshifter was wearing Reggie's skin when he killed him."

"Yep," said Sam, putting his pistol back together.

"Alright," said Shawn. "What do you kill 'em with?"

Sam looked up at him in surprise. "No, no, no. You're not coming."

"Why not?" asked Shawn.

"Because you're not trained," said Sam. "You don't know how to hunt these things. You'll get yourself killed."

"Well, we need to be able to defend ourselves," said Shawn. "I mean, we're right in the middle of this case. Who knows how close that shifter has been these past few days. It could've been anyone."

Sam looked over at him, thinking it through. It didn't hurt to just give him a gun for self-defense. Besides, maybe it would help to jog Dean's memory.

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing a certain ivory-handled pistol—Dean's old gun—and handing it to Shawn. "Silver bullet to the heart." He grabbed a couple silver bullets and handed them to Shawn.

"Shawn, maybe you shouldn't—" began Gus.

Shawn pulled the magazine out of the handle, loading the silver bullets into it. He slid the magazine back into the gun, pulling the slide back to put a bullet in the barrel.

Sam stared at him, amazed.

Shawn shrugged. "I've always had a thing with guns. I think I might have been a cop or something."

Sam smiled and checked his own pistol. "You guys stay here." He pulled one of the business cards out of his jacket and handed it to Shawn. "Anything happens, you call me."

"Yeah," said Shawn, tucking the card into his pocket.

"I'll only be gone for an hour or so," said Sam, heading out the door.

Sam got into the Impala and drove back to the apartment complex and the sewer access.

***********************************************************SPN********************************************************************************************************************

"You really believe him?" asked Gus.

"Yeah," said Shawn. "I mean, you saw that thing in the sewer. That was real."

Gus shook his head. "It was a hallucination."

"That we both had?" asked Shawn. "Come on."

Gus frowned at him. "Why do you trust him so much? I mean, he hadn't even told us his story, and you were in his court."

Shawn shrugged. "I don't know. There's just…something familiar about him."

"You think you knew him?" asked Gus. "Before your accident?"

"If that were true, he would have said something," said Shawn. "I think it's just my intuitive observation skills or something. I can't tell that there's anything wrong with him, so…yeah, I trust him."

Gus shrugged. "Alright. I've been your friend long enough to know that you know what you're talking about." He was silent for a moment. "You think he can tell you're not a psychic?"

Shawn looked at him. "Why wouldn't he think I was a psychic? I think I pull it off real good."

"I don't know," said Gus. "There are just these looks that he gives you sometimes."

"Well, he is a supernatural hunter," said Shawn. "And now he's come across a psychic. He's probably never seen one before or something." He stood up, tucking the pistol into the waistband of his jeans. "So, let's go hunt a shapeshifter."

"What?" Gus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Shawn, you heard Sam! This thing is dangerous! We are not risking our lives when we have no clue how to hunt this thing!"

"Oh, come on," said Shawn. "You know how good of an aim I am. How hard could it be?"

"Really hard!" said Gus. "Who knows what kind of super powers this thing has!"

"What's he gonna do?" said Shawn, heading for the door. "Fling his melted skin at me?"

"He might have enhanced strength or something," Gus pointed out.

Shawn grabbed the doorknob. "Well, then, I better shoot him before he gets near me, shouldn't I?" He opened the door to see Sam standing there.

Sam smiled wickedly at them. "Yes, you should." His eyes flashed almost silver in the light from the room lamp.

**********************************************************************SPN*********************************************************************************************************

Sam looked around the creature's lair, looking for clues as to where he might be headed next. He felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, and he pulled it out, checking the Caller ID.

Sam glanced around for the shifter before answering it. "Yeah?"

"How's the hunt going?" asked John, focusing on the case first.

"Good," said Sam. "I found his lair."

"Good job," said John. He hesitated. "And how's…"

Sam took a deep breath. "I think Shawn is Dean."

"Why would you think that?" asked John.

"Shawn told me his story," Sam explained. "He was in a car accident two years ago, and he doesn't remember anything before that. The accident was so bad that the doctors did reconstructive surgery on his face. That's why I didn't recognize him, but I could just tell there was something familiar about him the second I met him. And he said he didn't have any ID on him at the accident. The only thing he had was that amulet."

John hesitated for a while. "I'll be there in three hours."

Sam frowned. "You're working a hunt nearby?"

"No," said John. "I started heading your way when you mentioned this Shawn might know Dean. If he had any leads on where Dean might be, I had to talk to him."

Sam nodded. "Okay, I'll see you then."

"Right," said John, hanging up.

Sam was about to put his phone in his pocket when it started vibrating again. He didn't recognize the Caller ID, but answered it anyway. It might be Shawn.

"Hello?" asked Sam.

"Sam," said Gus. "It's Shawn."

Sam did not like Gus' tone. He sounded scared. "What about Shawn?"

"He's been shot," said Gus.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Shot?" asked Sam, frozen for only a moment before he began running back the way he came. "What do you mean, he's been shot?"

"The shapeshifter came back to the motel," said Gus. "He wrestled with Shawn for the gun and aimed it at me, but Shawn dove in front of the bullet."

Sam's heart stopped as he froze. "He's…he's…"

"He's being rushed to the hospital," said Gus.

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief as he began running towards the ladder and climbed up it towards the street.

"The sound of the gunshot brought people running towards the room, so the shapeshifter ran," said Gus. "Sam, he looked like you."

_Dammit,_ Sam thought. "Alright, hang on, I'm on my way."

"We're headed to St. Theresa's," said Gus.

"Where was he shot?" asked Sam, darting over to the Impala's driver side.

"Just below his ribs on left side," said Gus.

Sam sighed in relief. _Dean's survived worse than that…_ "Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes."

Sam hung up and fired up the engine, speeding all the way to the hospital. When he got there, he ran into the ER lobby, rushing up to the front desk.

"Dean—uh—Shawn Spencer, please," said Sam urgently. "I need to find—"

"Sam!" said Gus, walking up to him.

Sam rushed over to him. "Where is he? Is he—"

"The doctors have him in surgery right now," said Gus. "They think he'll pull through."

Sam sighed in relaxation.

Gus frowned. "You're really worried about him."

Sam looked at him. "Well…whenever a civilian gets in the way of a hunt…"

Gus nodded, leading Sam over to where the waiting area was. They sat down, waiting for a doctor to come tell them what was going on.

Sam pulled out his cell phone, calling John.

"Yes?" asked John.

"When you get here, we're at St. Theresa's hospital," Sam told him.

"What happened?" asked John urgently.

"The shapeshifter showed up at the motel room," said Sam. "Shawn was staying there with his friend Gus, and the shapeshifter shot Shawn."

"Why was Shawn and his friend staying in your motel room?" asked John.

Sam sighed, ready for a lecture. "They snuck down in the sewers and saw the shapeshifter. I told them everything and had them stay in the room while I hunted for the shapeshifter."

"You told them?" asked John.

"Dad, when Shawn has his mind set on something, nothing changes it," said Sam.

John chuckled a little. "Yeah…that sounds like your brother." He sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Sam hung up and looked over at Gus.

"Who was that?" asked Gus.

"My dad," said Sam. "He's on his way."

Gus nodded. "Why?"

"He's overprotective," said Sam. "Wanted to help me with this hunt."

Gus nodded and leaned back in his seat, waiting. After fifteen minutes or so, Detective O'Hara and a middle-aged man walked into the lobby.

"Gus!" said O'Hara. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's in surgery right now," said Gus, standing to greet them. "We haven't heard anything yet."

"Oh…" said O'Hara, looking very worried.

Gus turned towards Sam, who stood also. "This is Sam—"

"Simmons," said Sam quickly, holding his hand out. He shook the man's hand. "I'm a federal agent."

The man nodded. "Henry Spencer."

Sam glanced over to see that Gus nodded at him, remembering Sam's cover. He looked back at Henry. "Yes, I've heard about you. Shawn seems to really look up to you."

Henry nodded. "Well, I look up to him, too. He really is an extraordinary young man."

"Yeah, he is…" said Sam. He looked at O'Hara. "You know, I never really caught your first name, other than Shawn's—"

"Nickname, yeah," said O'Hara, smiling. "My name is Juliet."

"Juliet," said Sam. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you," said Juliet.

"Lassiter couldn't make it?" asked Sam with a slight smile.

Juliet smiled. "Yeah, he wants Shawn to be okay as well, but…the two of them aren't really at best friend status."

Sam laughed, nodding. Dean never really did like authority figures.

All of them sat down in the waiting area, silently passing the time in apprehension.

About two hours later, Sam looked up to see John walking in through the automatic doors.

"Dad," Sam called, getting up and walking over to him.

"Sam," said John, turning towards him. "What have they said?"

"He's still in surgery," Sam told him.

"And you're sure it's Dean?" asked John.

"Well, one way to be sure," said Sam. "A paternity test."

John nodded. "Yeah, we can tell the doctors our story, and hopefully, they'll agree to a paternity test."

"Right," said Sam. "We're over here." He led his father over to where the other three were waiting. "Guys, this is my associate, Agent Winchester."

John smiled warmly at them, taking Sam's cue for their cover.

"A federal consultant?" asked Juliet.

"Exactly," said John. He held out a hand. "John Winchester."

Juliet shook his hand. "Juliet O'Hara."

"Nice to meet you," said John, turning towards Henry.

Henry shook his hand. "Henry Spencer."

John frowned as he shook his hand. "Spencer? As in, Shawn Spencer."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Shawn picked his last name as Spencer because Henry visited him a lot in the hospital."

"Oh," said John, nodding.

Gus extended his hand. "Burton Guster. People call me Gus."

"It's nice to meet you all," said John.

"You, too, sir," said Gus.

"Spencer?"

They all turned to see a doctor standing at the edge of the waiting area.

"Right here," said Gus as they all headed over to the doctor.

"Um…all of you?" asked the doctor.

"Yeah, we're all kind of Shawn's family," said Juliet.

"Well, we extracted the bullet and stitched all the lacerations," explained the doctor. "He lost a lot of blood, but we are giving him transfusions. He made it through the surgery just fine, and he came out of the anesthesia, as expected. He's gonna be just fine. Right now, he's sleeping, but you're all welcome to visit him."

"Thank God," breathed Gus.

"He's down the hall, room 126," said the doctor.

"Thank you so much, doctor," said Juliet, heading down the hall with Gus and Henry.

John approached the doctor. "Can we speak with you for a moment?"

"Certainly," said the doctor.

Sam stood by John, glancing nervously down the hall where Shawn was. He really wanted to go in and see that he was okay with his own eyes.

"I believe this Shawn Spencer might be my son," John told the doctor.

"You do?" asked the doctor.

"Two years ago, my son Dean vanished," said John. He gestured to Sam. "We've been looking for him ever since. I understand Shawn was in an accident that gave him amnesia, and the surgeries performed altered his appearance. But we believe that Shawn is Dean. We were wondering if we could have a paternity test done."

"Yes, of course," said the doctor. "But I would need consent from both parties."

John and Sam exchanged a glance. They did not want to alarm Dean.

"Can Henry Spencer give his consent?" asked Sam.

The doctor shrugged. "Shawn did appoint Henry as his guardian since he had no memory of his biological family. So, Henry is capable of making Shawn's medical decisions."

"Thank you," said John. "We just don't want to disturb Shawn. If the results are positive, then we'll approach Shawn with the information."

"That's smart," said the doctor. "Shawn's amnesia is very rare. It has characteristics of retrograde amnesia, with not being able to remember anything before the accident. However, retrograde amnesia usually only wipes out a few minutes before an incident, which leads me to believe it is transient global amnesia. But global amnesia allows a patient to remember their name. Shawn has no memory whatsoever. Who knows how his brain will react when faced with the truth. If he is your son, I would be very careful on how you approach him about it."

"Yes, of course," said John.

"Sam, if you could talk to Henry Spencer and get an answer," said the doctor.

"Yeah," said Sam, nodding.

"And if you'll follow me, John, I'll have a nurse draw your blood," said the doctor.

"Thank you, doctor," said John. He looked at Sam. "Go check on him. I'll be with you in a minute."

"Yes, sir," said Sam, heading quickly towards room 126.

Sam walked into the room to find Shawn lying on the bed, sleeping. His heart monitor beeped steadily in the room. Gus and Juliet sat by his bed as Henry sat in the corner, watching Shawn closely.

"Mr. Spencer?" asked Sam.

Henry looked up at him. "Yes?"

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" asked Sam.

"Of course," said Henry.

Sam took one last look at Shawn to make sure he was okay before leading Henry out into the hallway.

Sam closed the door behind Henry. "Can you give consent for a paternity test?"

Henry frowned. "A paternity test?"

Sam sighed. "The real reason why John is here is because he's my father. We believe Shawn is my brother Dean. He disappeared two years ago, and Shawn's accident was two years ago."

"You don't have the same last names," Henry pointed out.

Sam thought quickly. "My parents died when I was seven years old. John adopted me, but I chose to keep my biological last name in honor of my mother and father. My last name is Simmons while John and Dean's last names are Winchester."

Henry nodded. "And why can't you wait to ask Shawn himself?"

"You're legally Shawn's guardian at the time, so you probably know the doctors are not sure what kind of amnesia Shawn has," said Sam. "The doctors believe that we should approach Shawn cautiously, so his brain doesn't overreact to the information."

Henry nodded in understanding. "Yes, of course, I'll tell the doctors right away."

"Thank you so much," said Sam.

Henry headed off to the nurse's station as Sam headed back into the room. He sat down next to the bed, watching Shawn closely. Even though the evidence all lined up, it was still hard to believe that this man was Dean. If he was Dean…Sam hardly recognized him. He looked so different. Sam could accept Dean's new appearance…but could Dean if his memory ever came back?

John walked into the room, sitting down in the corner and watching Shawn closely. Sam glanced at him, and John looked at him, conveying everything in that look. John could sense it, too. He could see what Sam had seen when he had met Shawn; how familiar he was.

They waited in silence for Shawn to wake up. He was still pale from the blood loss, but the infusions were helping. As the minutes wore on, Shawn's complexion colored, and a nurse detached the transfusion line. Finally, the doctor walked into the room with Henry.

"Mr. Winchester?" said the doctor. "The test results have come back."

"What test results?" asked Juliet as she stood up with Gus. "What's going on?"

Sam glanced at the doctor and back over at Shawn, not wanting him to hear anything yet. He gestured that everyone head out into the hall. When everyone was in the hall, Sam glanced at John before turning to Gus and Juliet.

"We did a paternity test on Shawn," said Sam.

"Paternity test?" said Gus. "With who?"

"Me," said John.

"I'm confused," said Juliet. "How do you guys know Shawn?"

"My brother Dean went missing two years ago," Sam told them. "We went searching for him, but we never found him."

"We?" asked Juliet.

Sam gestured to John. "John is my father."

"But his last name is Winchester," said Gus. "Yours is Simmons."

Sam nodded and relayed his cover story. "My parents were killed when I was seven. The Winchesters adopted me, but I kept my last name."

"And why do you think Shawn is this Dean?" asked Juliet.

"He has an amulet that I gave Dean when I was eight," said Sam. "And I could just feel something familiar about him when I met him."

"Do you have a picture of him?" asked Juliet.

Sam pulled out his wallet and grabbed a folded picture out of it. It was a picture of Sam and Dean shortly before Sam left for college. He handed it to Juliet, who looked at it with Gus. Juliet glanced at Gus, who glanced back at her.

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"Well…not that we're saying for sure, but…" began Gus, "this looks like the pictures the hospital gave Shawn after his accident."

"Pictures?" asked Sam.

"They gave Shawn pictures of him before they did the surgery," said Gus. "You can't really tell because the damage to his head from the accident was so severe, but…It kind of looks like him."

"Well, let's find out for sure," said John as Sam accepted the picture back.

Everyone looked at the doctor in anticipation.

"We've analyzed the DNA markers in John and Shawn's blood," said the doctor. He looked at John. "It's a match."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"A match?" asked John. "Shawn really is my son?"

"Yes," said the doctor. "Now, I hope you really do understand the need for caution when approaching Shawn and telling him about this."

John nodded. "Yes, of course."

"I'm glad Shawn finally found his family," said the doctor, walking down the hall.

John looked at Sam. "We found Dean. We finally found him."

"Yeah…" said Sam.

"So…has he always been psychic, or did he really get that from the accident?" asked Juliet.

Gus glanced closely at them.

"No, he must've gotten that from the accident," said Sam. "He was never psychic before…at least, not that we noticed."

Juliet nodded. "It must have been the trauma. It was a severe head wound."

"Probably," nodded Sam. "Come on, he'll wake up soon."

Sam led everyone into the room to find Shawn's bed empty. He froze in the doorway.

"What is it?" asked John.

"He's gone," said Sam, heading further into the room.

The others walked inside the room, finding the empty bed.

"But where—" began Gus.

They heard the sink turn on in the bathroom, the door closed. They breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment, the sink turned off, and the door opened. Shawn gripped the doorway as he hobbled out of the small room.

Shawn glanced up at the room full of visitors. "Hey, guys. Didn't think I had fans." He frowned at John. "And fans I don't know."

John stared at Shawn for a moment, swallowing hard. "I'm John Winchester."

Shawn glanced from John to Sam. "Winchester?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "He's my dad."

Shawn nodded. "Oh." He put a hand to his abdomen over the wound and walked back to his bed. He hissed a little as he sat down on the bed, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. He started to lean down to grab the blankets, wincing.

"Here, let me help," said Sam, heading towards the bed.

"I got it," said Shawn, stubbornly leaning a little further and grabbing the blankets. He flipped them over his legs and leaned against the raised head of the bed. He let out a breath as he waited for the pain to go away.

Sam and John glanced at each other with a smile. Dean always was so stubborn; never liked to be baby-ed.

Shawn let the pain go away and looked up at everyone in the room. He frowned. "What?"

Everyone shook themselves as they realized they were all staring at Shawn. There was silence for a moment.

"Well, this is awkward," said Shawn. "Who's got the remote?"

Gus grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV, turning it on. He flipped through a couple channels before pausing on something.

"Oh, dude!" said Shawn. "We are not watching _American Duos_."

"Why not?" asked Gus.

"Because, it's just a knock-off of that other knock-off of that other show," said Shawn. "Plus, it sucks. Come on, find something good."

Sam chuckled a little.

Shawn looked over at him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," said Sam. "You just, uh…really remind me of my brother."

Shawn nodded, looking closely at Sam. "What was his name?"

Sam frowned. "How did you know to use past tense?"

Shawn paused for a moment before putting his hand to his head. "I just…sensed that he was no longer with you...That he had died or gone missing or something."

Sam nodded for a moment. "His name was Dean. He went missing a couple years ago. We haven't found him yet."

Shawn closed his eyes as he moved his hand to his head. "I'm getting a message…Your brother is safe…He's happy…"

Sam smiled at the irony that his brother was talking about himself. "I'll bet he is."

Shawn opened his eyes as he lowered his hand. "Oh, definitely. He's a fighter, I can tell."

Sam smiled even wider, nodding. "Yeah, he is."

Throughout the day, Sam and John asked the others not to mention anything about being a Winchester to Shawn. They decided that they would tell him when they thought he was ready. The others mostly left Sam and John alone with Shawn. Not too much, should Shawn start to suspect something. Juliet reasoned that how could you hide something from a psychic, but still went along with the whole thing.

"Wait a minute," said Sam. "You held a séance with a guy that turned out to be alive?"

Shawn laughed. "Yeah." He glanced over at them with a smug look. "I guess I must have been communicating with his spirit instead of his ghost. The spirit world gets confusing sometimes."

"So, how many cases have you solved?" asked John.

"Uh, about…fifteen or sixteen," said Shawn.

"How long have you been working for the SBPD?" asked Sam.

"Since July," said Shawn. "They brought me in for questioning because I called in so many tips. I finally told them I was a psychic."

Sam stared closely at him. He had turned psychic just before Sam had. Maybe it **was** related to the demon.

Shawn brought his hand to his head, lowering his head a little. "You're hiding something else. Something to do with the whole psychic thing."

Sam and John glanced at each other, impressed.

Sam looked back at Shawn. "I haven't been totally honest with you." He hesitated for a moment. "I'm psychic, too."

Shawn's eyes widened. "You are?"

"Yes," said Sam. "The demon that killed my mother was after me. About a year and a half ago, I started having strange dreams that started coming true. And then I started having these visions while I was awake. We found out that this demon visited other children when they were six months old, sometimes killing their mothers the same way he killed mine. They also have psychic abilities; it could be visions or it could be other psychic abilities: telekinesis, mind control…"

"So…" said Shawn, frowning, "you think I might be one of these psychic kids?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. Or you could just be a regular psychic. It's been shown that trauma can cause people to become psychic. It's either your car accident that triggered it, or…whatever gave these psychic kids their abilities."

Shawn nodded, looking quickly away from them. "Well…that's something…"

"Hey," said Gus from the doorway.

"Hey, Gus," said Shawn. "How's it going? Let me guess: the office is crashing without my psychic energy to keep it afloat."

Gus glared at Shawn. "It **can** survive without you, you know."

Shawn smiled at him.

"How are you?" asked Gus.

"Better," said Shawn. "I think I'm going home tonight."

"Yeah, right," said Sam. "You were shot."

"Okay, tomorrow morning," said Shawn, shrugging.

"Try in two days," said John. "I talked to your doctor."

"Oh, man, come on," said Shawn, sitting forward to show him he was fine. "I am perfectly okay." He winced a little as his stitches pulled.

"Oh, yeah," said Sam. "You're completely fine."

"Whatever," mumbled Shawn. "You guys aren't gonna spend the night, are you?"

Sam frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been here all day long," said Shawn. "Not even Gus was here all day long."

Sam winced. He knew Shawn would pick up on that.

"We're just worried about you," said John.

"Yeah, so is Gus," said Shawn. "You don't see him hovering."

"It's just the psychic thing," Sam lied. "If you really are one of these psychic kids, then we don't want anything to happen to you. The demon might come after you."

"What psychic kids?" asked Gus.

"Sit down," said Sam. "We'll explain the whole thing."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Shawn watched as Sam and John left the room to head back to the motel.

"That was weird," said Gus.

"Tell me about it," said Shawn. "I don't doubt their whole psychic demon story thing. I mean, they're the experts. But…now they think I'm one of those psychic kids. Or they think I got psychic abilities from the accident." He frowned. "I wonder if he's the real deal."

"The real deal?" asked Gus.

"Yeah, he says he's a psychic, but I wonder if he's real," said Shawn.

"He probably is," said Gus. "I mean, what are the odds that the both of you are faking being psychic?"

Shawn shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

Gus watched him closely. "So…how are you?"

"I'm fine," said Shawn.

"Good, good…" said Gus.

"Gus…" said Shawn suspiciously. "What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," said Gus.

"Gus, don't be that annoying whine that the TV gives off," said Shawn. "How long have you known me? Of course you're hiding something."

"I'm just…" sighed Gus. "I'm worried about you."

Shawn looked at him closely, nodding and then smiling. "I'm gonna be fine, Gus."

Gus frowned. "Why would you jump in front of a bullet for me?"

"'Cause you're my best friend," said Shawn. "You're the only one I've got. Of course I'd jump in front of a bullet for you."

Gus smiled, touched by that. "Well, thanks."

"Ah, don't mention it," shrugged Shawn. "Now, think you can sneak me a burger?"

Gus frowned. "Shawn, I'm not gonna sneak you food that's not on your hospital diet."

"Oh, come on," said Shawn. "We eat burgers all the time. What's it gonna hurt to eat one while I'm in the hospital?"

"No, Shawn," said Gus firmly.

"Gus, I'm gonna have burger withdrawal here," said Shawn.

"You can't have burger withdrawal, Shawn," said Gus. "You'll be fine."

Shawn sighed. "Well, then, how about some ice cream?"

Gus nodded. "Hospitals keep cups of ice cream in the patient fridges. I'll go ask your nurse for it." He began to walk out of the room.

"Make sure it's pineapple!" Shawn called.

Gus glanced back at him before heading out of the room.

***************************************************************SPN************************************************************************************************

Sam headed into the Santa Barbara Police Station, just as everyone was getting there for the day. He felt tired, having been up half the night, but he had a job to do.

"Agent!" Juliet called as she walked towards him.

"Good morning, Detective," Sam greeted, both very professional now that they were on the job again.

"Have you uncovered anything else?" asked Juliet.

"Not yet," said Sam, of course hiding where he knew the shapeshifter's lair was. "Have you or Lassiter discovered any other clues?"

"Well, forensics have concluded that there may have been a struggle," said Juliet. "Looks like Shawn was right. It might be murder."

Sam nodded. "Is he usually right?"

Juliet frowned a little. "I'd put it at ninety-nine percent success rate."

Sam nodded. "That's not bad."

"O'Hara!"

Sam and Juliet glanced over to see a blonde woman emerging from an glass-window enclosed room.

"I need to see you and Mr. Simmons in my office immediately," she said.

Sam followed Juliet into what was obviously the chief's office. Lassiter was already sitting at the table in the office.

She held out a hand to Sam. "Nice to meet you. I am Interim Chief Karen Vick."

"Good to meet you," said Sam, shaking her hand.

"Alright," said Chief Vick, heading back behind her desk. "It appears as though we've got a serial killer on our hands. Lassiter, what do you have?"

"Well, surveillance footage shows no assailant entering the crime scenes," said Lassiter. "Which leads me to believe he knew the cameras were there, possibly tapping into the footage and looping an empty hallway. In that case, it's someone who has knowledge of security cameras and electrical works."

Chief Vick nodded. "Good work, Detective."

Sam looked over at Lassiter, impressed. _Well, he's done his homework. He just doesn't know about the truth._

"Alright, let's head over to these apartment buildings and interview neighbors and landlords," said Chief Vick. "See if anyone suspicious, possibly in a maintenance uniform, has been wandering around the buildings the days before the murders."

"Sure thing, Chief," said Juliet, heading through the door of the office with Lassiter.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" asked Chief Vick.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," said Sam with a smile. "I'd hate to step on your toes."

Chief Vick sighed. "Well, finally, a fed with manners."

Sam laughed.

"So, I understand you've taken a liking to Mr. Spencer," said Chief Vick.

Sam nodded. "He's quite an…extraordinary man."

Chief Vick smiled. "That's one word for it. But he has solved many cases, so we tend to tolerate his eccentric behavior."

"Eccentric is one word for it," said Sam.

"How is he doing?" asked Chief Vick.

"He's doing surprisingly well, considering he's just been shot," said Sam.

"That's Spencer for you," said Chief Vick. "Nothing stops him. He once got run off the road by the suspect, sent to the hospital, and still managed to solve the case."

"Run off the road?" asked Sam. "Does he usually managed to get targeted by the suspects?"

Chief Vick thought for a moment. "Most of the time."

Sam laughed. _That sounds like Dean…_

"Well, it was nice to meet you," said Sam. "I'll check in later with any information I might have."

"Thank you, Agent Simmons," said Chief Vick, sitting down behind her desk as Sam walked out of her office and the station.

***************************************************************SPN*******************************************************************************************************************

Sam walked into his motel room that night. His father was still out scouring the neighborhood for any sign of the shifter. He'd visited Shawn again around lunch time to see that his brother was climbing the walls to get out of that hospital. Fortunately, the doctors weren't letting him off that easy; a gunshot was a serious wound. Juliet and Lassiter were busy barking up the wrong tree; of course, they thought they were right on track. If it wasn't something supernatural, Sam would think they were doing pretty good tracking down a suspect.

Sam had a chance to talk to Gus and Shawn when he visited the hospital, sharing stories. He'd learned that Shawn and Gus had met during the few weeks or so while Shawn was recuperating in the hospital. Gus was a pharmaceuticals representative, and he'd been coming to visit Shawn's doctor at the time with some new medications. Shawn had managed to grab him from the hallway on his way back from a walk around the halls (the cabin fever had gotten real bad the last month he was stuck there), and Gus had taken an instant liking to him.

Sam heard the story of their first case and how the Psych business got started. Shawn bragged on all the cases he'd solved, and Gus filled in the truth where Shawn embellished.

Sam set his jacket down on the bed, grabbing his laptop and began to head to the table to research.

"Ah!" Sam yelled.

The laptop fell onto the bed as Sam grabbed at his head. The pain had come out of nowhere. It wasn't like his usual headaches, that built and built until the vision appeared. This pain had hit like a locomotive, sudden and sharp.

"AH!" Sam yelled, collapsing onto his knees.

_Shawn struggled on the floor of the room in the sewer, trying to get out of his ropes._

"_So…" said the shifter in Dean's form, "you're the psychic?"_

_Shawn glared up at the shifter, unknowingly glaring at his own face._

"_Too bad you didn't see this coming," said the shifter with a wicked smile. He picked up at knife from a ledge on the wall. "I guess you're not that great a psychic after all."_

_The shifter lunged for Shawn, stabbing him through the heart. Shawn gasped as he stared up at the shifter, struggling to breathe for a moment before closing his eyes._

"NO!" Sam yelled, coming back to himself in the motel room. He'd collapsed onto the floor.

Sam jumped up, grabbing his keys and speeding towards the hospital. He ran through the lobby, heading for Shawn's room.

"Shawn!" Sam yelled, barreling into the room.

Shawn frowned at him from the bed, the television remote in hand. "Dude, you okay?"

Sam watched him closely, walking over to the bed as he drew a knife.

Shawn's eyes froze on the knife as Sam drew closer. "Dude…"

Sam grabbed hold of Shawn's hand.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Shawn, trying to pull his hand away.

Sam drew the knife quickly across Shawn's palm, waiting for a reaction, but his skin didn't burn.

"Ow!" Shawn said, yanking his hand away.

Sam sighed in relief, putting the knife away and sitting down next to the bed. "Thank God."

"'Thank God'?" said Shawn, jumping up from his bed and scooting away from Sam. "'Thank God'? You rush in here and stab me, and that's all you have to say is, 'Thank God'?"

"In my defense, I didn't stab you," said Sam. "I cut you."

"Question still stands, psycho," growled Shawn.

"I was making sure you weren't the shapeshifter," said Sam.

Shawn frowned. "Really? You couldn't just ask?"

"You really think the shifter would tell me, 'yes'?" asked Sam.

Shawn shrugged, grabbing a Kleenex and holding it to his cut. "Well, why would you think I was the shifter?"

"I had a vision," said Sam. "You were trapped in its lair, and it killed you."

Shawn frowned. "You had a vision?"

Sam nodded.

Shawn sat back down in his bed, clutching his bullet wound as he got comfortable again. "So…how does a hunter test for a shapeshifter?"

Sam held up the knife. "Silver. It burns their skin."

"Oh, yeah," Shawn nodded. "Silver bullet to the heart."

Sam nodded, putting the knife away again. "You haven't seen anything weird since I visited, have you?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. Nothing. Unless you count the nightmare nurse matron on the night shift."

Sam laughed.

"So, how often do you have these visions?" asked Shawn.

"Well, once every couple of months," said Sam.

"Is that all?" asked Shawn.

Sam nodded. "I can't exactly control it."

"Well, me, neither," said Shawn. "But I have a vision sometimes four times a day."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe that's the difference between being born this way and getting it from an accident."

Shawn nodded, looking over at his dinner tray. "You want some apple sauce? I don't really have the stomach for healthy crap like that."

Sam glanced over at the dinner tray and the untouched cup of apple sauce and then glanced back at Shawn, laughing. It finally felt like it was he and his brother again. Shawn began laughing with him, not exactly sure what he was laughing at, but still enjoying the laugh all the same.

Shawn's eyes widened suddenly. "Sam!"

The room went dark as something collided with the back of Sam's head.

**Is it just me, or does Gus say Shawn's name a lot on that show?**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Sam came back to consciousness, trying to bring his hand to his forehead. Metal clinked as his hands froze. He couldn't move his arms. He glanced down to see that his hands were cuffed to pipes on either side of him. Fortunately, his feet weren't shackled. Bad insight on the shifter's part. He looked across the room to see Shawn unconscious on the floor in the middle of the room.

Shawn had his hands tied behind his back and his feet tied together.

"Shawn!" Sam called. "Shawn!"

"Shawn can't hear you right now."

Sam's eyes widened at the familiar voice, and he snapped his head over to his right. Dean was standing in the doorway, his eyes glinting silver.

Sam glared at the shifter. "You son of a bitch."

_Dean_ frowned. "Isn't that my line?" He chuckled and walked over towards Shawn, glancing down at him. "I must admit, your brother has a lot of good qualities. I kind of wanted his current form. It's more confusing that way—gets into his head easier—but…it was a nice surprise that it turned out this way." He looked up at Sam, smirking at him. "Gets into **your** head easier. And, man!"

Sam flinched, clenching his fists.

"Getting into a hunter's head is so much more fun…" _Dean_ smiled wickedly at him. "Takes all that training and throws it right out the window…" He began walking towards Sam. "Isn't that right? See, already, I can see the anger…the rage…And at what? Your brother?"

"At you, you bastard!" Sam yelled.

_Dean_ smiled, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "See? Right there! That's what I mean! You're too wrapped up in your own mind to focus on the hunt. I love it."

Sam raised his knee, aiming in between the shifter's legs. _Dean_ cried out, falling back onto the floor.

"Guess again, dick," Sam snarled at him.

_Dean_ chuckled, slowly climbing to his feet. "Guess I underestimated you, _bro_." He frowned and glanced over at Shawn. "Or, should I say, _bros_." He chuckled before heading off into one of the tunnels.

"Damn shifters," Sam grumbled, struggling with his cuffs.

"Ugh…" Shawn moaned.

Sam looked up at him. "Shawn?"

Shawn lifted his head, opening his eyes to look at Sam. "Sam?"

"Yeah, you okay?" asked Sam.

"I think so," said Shawn. He glanced around the room. "We down here again?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Well, looks like this proves your psychic powers," said Shawn. He shifted a little, wincing as he tried to break the ropes.

"Don't even think about it," said _Dean_ from the doorway, his eyes flaring in the light from above.

Sam looked up at him. _Damn, he's sneaky…_

Shawn frowned, looking closely at the shifter's face. "Wait…I…I recognize you."

"Well, you should," smirked _Dean_, walking closer to him. "Whenever I take a person's form, it's always their true form. Whatever scars they had, whatever plastic or…" he smiled wickedly at Shawn, "_reconstructive_ surgery they'd had…it's like it never happened…"

Shawn's eyes widened. "Oh, my God…The photos from the accident…You're me…"

"Oh, more than just you, sweetheart," said _Dean_. His gaze swept towards Sam mischievously.

Shawn glanced over at Sam and noticed something. He glanced back at _Dean_ and then back at Sam. "Wait…you two…are…"

"Familiar features…" muttered _Dean_. "The same strong jaw line…that we got from our father."

Shawn's eyes widened as he looked over at Sam. "Your brother…" He looked over at the shifter and froze, his eyes widening further. "Oh, my God…"

"That's right," smiled _Dean_. "Let it all sink in."

Shawn looked over at Sam. "Dean…" His jaw dropped. "I'm Dean…"

"Ding, ding, ding!" said _Dean_, clapping his hands together once. "I think he's got it!"

"I'm your brother?" asked Shawn, giving Sam a look that clearly said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to tell you so bad when I found out," Sam told him. "But the doctor said he wasn't sure how your mind would react when faced with the truth all at once. We decided to ease you into it, but then…" He sighed, gesturing towards the shifter.

Shawn looked over at the shapeshifter and back at Sam. "Is that really how I looked before…?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah…"

Shawn glanced over at _Dean_, looking him up and down and smirking. "Not bad."

Sam laughed, and Shawn looked over at him, smiling a little.

"Alright," _Dean_ said, heading towards Shawn. "Let's break up this chick flick."

Shawn started to scoot away from _Dean_ as he stalked towards him. _Dean_ punched Shawn twice in the face.

"No!" Sam yelled.

Shawn reared his head back as _Dean_ raised his fist. Shawn leaned forward and head-butted _Dean_. He then raised his tied legs and nailed _Dean_ in the chest. _Dean_ fell back onto the floor as Shawn pulled his legs up under him, trying to stand up. _Dean_ raised a leg and kicked Shawn in the chest. Shawn fell back onto the floor, the back of his head smacking against the ground with a sickening thud.

"Shawn!" Sam called in horror.

Shawn's eyes rolled up into his head.

Sam glared at _Dean_. "You son of a bitch!"

_Dean_ stood and rushed towards Sam, punching him repeatedly in the face and gut. _Dean_ then pulled out a knife and stabbed it through Sam's shoulder. Sam yelled in pain as _Dean_ withdrew the knife and stabbed Sam in the other shoulder. Sam shouted again as _Dean _raised the knife, aiming for his heart.

A shot rang out, and _Dean_ froze, staring at Sam wide-eyed. Sam watched as _Dean_ stumbled and fell to the ground. Behind him, Shawn stood with a gun aimed at the dead shifter. His face was the hard mask of a hunter. Sam looked down behind Shawn to see severed ropes and a small knife on the floor. Shawn lowered the pistol to his side.

"Shawn?" asked Sam.

Shawn bent over and picked up the knife from the ground, heading towards Sam. He inserted the knife into the cuffs and expertly picked them, freeing Sam.

"Shawn?" asked Sam, frowning at him.

Shawn looked up at him, and Sam could see something familiar in those hazel eyes. Shawn hesitated for a moment before pulling Sam into a tight hug. Sam hugged him back just as tight.

"Dean?" asked Sam in amazement.

Shawn edged away from Sam, looking up at him with eyes that were becoming glassy.

"Dean?" asked Sam, watching him closely.

Shawn stumbled a little, his eyelids drooping. His eyes rolled up into his head as he collapsed onto the floor.

"Dean!" Sam called, rushing over towards him. He shook Shawn's shoulders. "Come on, don't do this, Dean." He put his hands on either side of Shawn's head, turning it towards him. "Dean?" He hesitated, unsure what he remembered or not. "Shawn?"

He moved his hand to the pulse point on Shawn's neck and found one immediately.

"Thank God," breathed Sam. He started to move his hand to Shawn's shoulder, but saw two bloody fingerprints on his neck. He turned his hand over to see blood on his fingertips. "Oh, God…"

Sam put his hand to the back of Shawn's head, bringing it away with blood on it. "No…No…"

He pulled Shawn into his arms, heading through the tunnels towards the street access. He somehow managed to pull Shawn up the ladder with him and then ran towards the nearest payphone. He set Shawn down gently on the ground before digging through his pockets, looking for any spare change he might have.

"Oh, come on," said Sam. "Dammit." He looked around, spotting a young couple heading across the street. "Hey! Over here!" He headed halfway towards them, not wanting to abandon his brother.

The couple looked at him, frowning.

"Please help me!" said Sam. "My brother, he's hurt!"

The guy looked past Sam at Shawn lying on the ground. He looked at his girl. "Call 911."

He rushed over to Shawn with Sam. "What happened?"

"This guy jumped us," said Sam. "I think he was trying to rob us. Shawn hit the ground hard. His head is bleeding. We need an ambulance."

"Kendra is calling them right now," said the guy. "We'll stay with you until they get here."

"Thank you," said Sam, putting a hand on Shawn's chest to assure himself that he was still alive.

"What's your name?" asked the guy.

"Sam," he answered.

"I'm Matt," said the guy.

Kendra rushed over to them. "They're on their way."

"Thank you so much," said Sam.

The couple stayed with him to wait for the ambulance.

***********************************SPN***********************************************************************************

"Where is he?" asked John as he headed through the front door.

"Dad, he's fine," said Sam. "So far."

"What does that mean, so far?" asked John.

"The doctor says he's stable, but he hasn't woken up yet," said Sam. "That's all that they're waiting for. His prognosis depends on when he wakes up…if he wakes up."

John stared at him. "If?"

"Dad, Dean's strong," said Sam. "He's not gonna let a shifter get the better of him."

"A shifter?" asked John.

"The shifter took me and Shawn," Sam explained. "The shifter looked like Dean, and Shawn put all the pieces together. The shifter slammed Shawn's head against the floor. When Shawn woke up, he killed the shifter, and I could swear it was Dean looking back at me. Then he collapsed, and his head was bleeding."

"So, he remembers?" asked John.

Sam sighed, glancing down the hall. "I'm not sure…"

"Spencer?" asked a doctor as he headed into the waiting area.

"Yeah," said Sam.

"You can go see him," said the doctor. "But try to let him rest if he wakes up. His body needs to heal."

"Of course," said John. "Thank you."

He and Sam headed into Shawn's room. He was sleeping on the hospital bed, his heart monitor steadily beeping. They sat next to Shawn's bed, waiting for him to wake up.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Hey," said Juliet, walking into the room. "How is he?"

"Hey, Detective," greeted Sam.

Juliet smiled. "Juliet."

Sam smiled back at him. "Juliet. Uh…he's fine. Hasn't woken up yet."

"How long have you guys been here?" asked Juliet.

"Five hours," said John.

Juliet sighed, walking over towards Shawn's bed and staring anxiously at Shawn.

Sam gave John a look, and they quietly snuck out of the room. Sam glanced back to see Juliet wrapping her hand around Shawn's limp one.

"You think the two of them are together?" asked John.

Sam shrugged. "Probably not together, but…they definitely have something."

Five minutes later, Juliet walked out of the room.

"Well, I'll see you guys later," said Juliet. "I haven't eaten all day. I'll be back soon."

Sam nodded. "Alright. See ya."

Sam and John walked back into the room. Shawn was still out of it. They waited at his bedside for another thirty minutes before Shawn began to show signs of life.

Shawn shifted in the bed. "Mom…"

Sam and John looked up at him.

Shawn began hyperventilating. "Mom…no…"

Sam got up and walked to the hospital bed. "Shawn…"

Shawn jolted on the bed, the heart monitor speeding up. "No…"

Sam put a hand on Shawn's shoulder as John walked over to the bed, too. "Shawn, it's me."

Shawn breathed fast and hard, wincing. "Mom…"

"Dean!" Sam tried. "It's me, Sam! Dean, calm down!"

Shawn took a few deep breaths, settling under Sam's hand. His heart monitor slowed down as his breaths evened out. Sam eased his hand off of Shawn's shoulder as Shawn raised a hand to his head, rubbing at his eyes. He opened his eyes, looking up at Sam.

Shawn's eyes widened. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes widened as he stared at his brother. Could Dean really be back?

Shawn's eyes slid over to John, and they widened even further. "Dad?"

Sam smiled as Shawn looked at them in confusion. _He's back…Dean's back…_

John reached forward and pulled his son into an embrace. Dean frowned in confusion before patting his father awkwardly on the back. He looked around in uncertainty as John pulled away from him.

"What am I doing in the hospital?" asked Dean.

John and Sam shared a look.

"What do you remember, Dean?" asked John.

"Um…I was hunting a nest of rawheads," said Dean. "And I was headed to check out a lead…and then…" he sighed, "nothing."

Sam sighed as he glanced at John.

Dean frowned a little. "Wait." He brought a hand to the side of his head, closing his eyes. "There's something about a shapeshifter."

John and Sam glanced at each other; it was Dean—Shawn's "vision" face.

"And a car accident…" said Dean. "And the Santa Barbara Police Department…" His eyes flew open. "And Gus…and Jules…and Lassiter…and a psychic detective agency and Shawn Spencer! Oh, my God!"

"You remember?" asked Sam.

Dean lowered his hand. "I don't believe this." He chuckled a little. "I actually named my psychic detective agency 'Psych'? Yeah, that's not obvious at all." He chuckled a little more.

Sam and John exchanged a look.

"So…your psychic detective agency…" began John.

Dean looked at them.

"You got that after your accident?" asked John.

Dean frowned. "What, you think it's legit?"

Sam and John's eyes widened.

"Guys, it's a fake psychic detective agency," said Dean.

"You're not a psychic?" asked Sam.

"What, are you kidding?" said Dean. "That's all just intuitive observation skills I learned from Dad and honed over the years of hunting." He smiled smugly at Sam. "You gotta admit. I play the whole psychic thing good."

Sam frowned. "You named your fake psychic detective agency 'Psych'? Isn't that a little on the nose?"

Dean smiled. "That's what Gus said. I mean, it's the perfect plan. The best way to convince people you're not lying to them is to tell them you are." He frowned up at Sam. "When you found out who I really was, why would you think I was really psychic?" He looked away from him and then froze, looking back at Sam with wide eyes. "Oh, my God…You…"

Sam nodded as Dean remembered their conversation about the psychic kids and Sam's vision last night. "Yeah…"

"A year and a half ago…" said Dean. "You really…"

"Yeah, I am…" said Sam.

Dean's eyes widened. "My baby!"

Sam's eyes widened. "Your what?"

Dean froze and then relaxed on the bed. "Right…You're driving her now, that's right…"

Sam looked at John and laughed.

Dean frowned again and raised a hand to his face. "So…this is what I look like now…"

Sam stared at him. "Yeah…"

Dean lowered his hand, shrugging. "It's not bad."

"Shawn!" exclaimed Juliet as she walked in with Gus and Henry. "You're awake!"

Dean smiled at her. "Hey, Jules! Lassie-face couldn't find the time to come wish me well?"

Juliet smiled at him. "You know Lassiter. He's all work, work, work."

"I'll bet," said Dean.

"Shawn, how are you?" asked Henry.

"I'm good," said Dean. "But there's something you three need to know. My name isn't Shawn Spencer. It's Dean Winchester."

Juliet smiled. "You remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," said Dean.

"So, have you always been psychic?" asked Juliet. "Or did it really come from the accident?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, glancing at everyone else. "It came from the accident. The whole head trauma thing."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay now," said Juliet. "I'll call the chief and Lassiter to let them know."

"See ya, Jules," called Dean as Juliet headed out the door.

Gus glanced at Dean. "Do they know?"

Dean smiled. "Yeah, Gus, they know I'm not psychic."

Gus frowned at Sam. "But you are?"

Sam smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, what are the odds? Another psychic in the family."

They laughed a little.

"So…" began Sam, looking at Dean, "in the apartment crime scene…you saw the scuff mark and the blood by the phone."

"Yep," said Dean. "Scuff mark from the fight and blood by the phone, indicating he was trying to call for help."

"But the only fingerprints on the knife were his own," said Sam. "You didn't remember anything about hunting, so why would you stick to the whole murder thing?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Just a feeling in my gut, I guess. And if there's anything I've learned over the past two years, it's to trust my gut. Looks like I was right."

Henry held up his hand. "Wait a minute. Hunting? What are you guys talking about?"

Dean glanced up at him and sighed. "Sit down. It's a long story."

*********************************************************************SPN****************************************************************************************************

A few days later, Dean had mostly healed and was released from the hospital. Dean, Sam and John stopped by the police station so Dean could say goodbye. He walked up the steps and into the main hub as if he owned the place.

"Mr. Spencer!" called Chief Vick.

The three of them looked over at her.

Karen smiled. "I mean…Mr. Winchester. Care to join us?"

"Sure, Chief," said Dean, strolling towards the office. "My dad and Sam joining us?"

"Yes," said Karen. "I think that's best."

John and Sam followed Dean into the chief's office, finding Juliet, Gus, Henry and Lassiter sitting in the office.

"'Sup, guys?" smiled Dean. "We got one last case for me?"

"Last case?" asked Lassiter. "You mean, you're finally gonna leave us alone?"

Dean just smiled at the detective. "Oh, come on, you know you'll miss me."

Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"So, you're leaving with your family?" asked Juliet.

"Yeah," said Dean. "We got family stuff to take care of."

"Well, we just might have one last case for you," said Karen, handing a case file to Dean. "Maybe you can get a vision off of it before you leave."

Dean grabbed the case file, flipping it open and perusing the papers in it for a moment. "It was the brother-in-law." He handed the case file back to the chief.

Juliet, Lassiter and Karen just stared at him.

"You…you had a vision?" asked Karen.

"Nope," said Dean. "The will's a fake. The signature at the bottom is not Bill Havgood's. The loops on Bill's signature are wide and relaxed. This signature is rigid and tense, the same way they are on the brother-in-law Jeff Goldwin's witness signature on Bill's death certificate. Jeff killed Bill and drafted a new will so his wife—Bill's sister—would inherit his company. Jeff probably plans on killing her next to get it all."

Karen, Juliet and Lassiter stared at him.

"You didn't have a vision?" asked Juliet.

Dean smiled and looked at Sam.

Sam shrugged. "You might as well tell them."

Dean looked back at the others with a smug smirk. "Guys…I'm not a psychic."

Lassiter jumped to his feet, pointing at Dean. "I knew it!"

"Yes, Lassie," said Dean, walking over towards him. "Congratulations. Ya got me."

Lassiter slowly sat back down as Juliet stood, walking over towards Dean.

"You were never psychic?" asked Juliet.

"Nope," said Dean.

"But…all those visions," said Karen. "You knew information no one else knew."

Dean nodded. "My dad…raised me to be investigative. I'm just a really good detective."

"You lied to us?" asked Lassiter, standing once again.

"Well, what do you expect?" said Dean. "You didn't give me a chance! I told you I got those tips from watching the news, and I did. But you just couldn't believe that someone else was a better detective than you, so I had to tell you I was psychic to stop you from arresting me."

"So, you were faking this psychic thing the whole time?" asked Juliet.

Dean paused, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the table really quick. He raised his hand to the side of his head. "Hold on, I'm getting something." He winced as he "got a vision." "It's…It's…" he lowered his hand quickly. "You've been offered a job at the mayor's office."

Juliet's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

Sam and John looked at each other and laughed quietly.

"Please, Jules," said Dean. He pointed at the table where she'd been sitting. "The heading on the letter, the application sent with it…Challenge me."

"This is how you do it?" asked Karen. "You pick up small details like that, put it all together and then come into the station and 'have a vision'?"

"Well, sometimes I just call Lassie," said Dean.

"So, all your weirdo behavior, the flopping around and everything…" said Lassiter. "You do that voluntarily?"

Dean smiled at him. "Yep."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I knew you just wanted to annoy me."

"And what do you know?" said Dean. "It worked."

Lassiter looked at Sam and John. "Has he always been like this?"

"Yes," said Sam and John.

"Did anyone know you weren't psychic?" asked Juliet.

"Gus and Henry," said Dean. "They were the only ones."

"So…you lied to the department," said Karen. "After I warned you that hindering a police investigation was a criminal offense."

Dean looked uneasily at the chief. "Yeah…"

"You solved all those cases as a civilian," Karen continued.

They all watched apprehensively as Karen stared at Dean.

"Only seems appropriate…" said Karen, smiling at Dean, "that we offer you a job as a regular detective."

Dean's jaw dropped. "Here?"

"Yes, Mr. Winchester," said Karen. "You've proven yourself capable as an investigative detective. We could use a guy like you on the force."

Dean glanced over at John and Sam and then back at Karen. "Well, generous—and tempting—as that is, my family and I need to get back to business."

"Well," said Karen. "If you ever change your mind, the offer is still open."

Lassiter walked over to Karen. "Chief, when you say you would give him a job—"

"Don't worry, Carlton," said Karen. "It would be a trial run to see if he really has what it takes. You would still be head detective."

Lassiter relaxed as Dean walked over to Gus and the others.

"So…I guess this is goodbye," said Dean.

Gus pulled a pineapple off of the table and handed it to Dean. "For the road."

Dean smiled as Gus held his hand out, and they fist-bumped.

"I'll call," said Dean. "Might even make it back here one day."

"You better," said Gus with a smile.

Dean turned towards Henry.

"So…" said Henry, "you're off."

"Yeah…" said Dean. "Listen, uh…thank you…for, you know, being there for me."

"No problem," said Henry, patting Dean on the shoulder.

Dean turned towards Lassiter. "Lassie!" He spread his arms wide. "Come on. You know you want to."

"I'd rather dive into a nest of wasps," said Lassiter.

Dean lowered his arms, shrugging. "Whatever floats your boat."

Lassiter rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

Dean smiled and shook Lassiter's hand. "I'll be sure to visit you first if I make it back here."

"Oh, no, that's fine," said Lassiter. "I'm sure I'll see you at the station."

"It's settled," said Dean. "You'll be my first visit."

Lassiter sighed and headed out to his desk.

Dean chuckled as he turned towards Juliet. "And, uh…there's something I've been wanting to get off my chest for a while…"

"Really?" asked Juliet.

Dean walked up close to her, putting his hands on either side of her face. "Really."

He lowered his head and gave Juliet a passionate kiss. When he pulled away, Juliet let out a deep breath.

"Oh, wow…" said Juliet.

Dean smiled as he stared at her. Juliet reached up and kissed him back. They stayed like that for a moment before someone cleared their throat. They broke apart and looked up at the room full of people. Juliet blushed as Dean looked down at her.

"You have my number," Dean told her.

Juliet nodded. "I'll be looking forward to your next visit."

Dean smiled widely. "Definitely." He broke away from Juliet and turned to Karen. "Chief…"

"Spencer," said Karen with a smile. "Remember, my offer still stands."

Dean nodded. "I'll keep it in mind." He turned towards his brother and father and then looked at everyone still in the office. "Well…" he put a hand to the side of his head, "I'll see you in the spirit world."

Dean waved goodbye to all of them and then headed out towards the front door with John and Sam.

"Man, you really have a life here," said Sam.

Dean frowned at him as they headed down the steps in front of the station. "I do?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Looks like I'm not the only one who's managed to settle down."

"Well, I wouldn't call it settling down," said Dean.

"Still," said Sam. "You have somewhere to go now when hunting is over."

Dean shrugged. "True. Retirement in Santa Barbara could be fun." He smiled as he opened the driver's door of the Impala, looking at Dean over the roof. "Detective Dean Winchester. I like the sound of that."

The three of them piled into the Impala, heading towards Palo Alto to drop Sam off at Stanford.


End file.
